Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  Lucky sat back down. “Ya think?”

  Jack looked at Lucky.

  Abby smiled. “There’s one way to find out.”

  Jack looked at Abby.

  Lucky grinned. “That would be nice.”

  “It would,” she told him.

  Jack scratched his head and cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

  Before Abby could comment, a sexy blonde in a harem girl costume, jeweled naval and all, strutted past the table and smiled at Lucky.

  Lucky inclined his head in her direction. “Who was that?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Jack stated matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, yes I do,” Lucky insisted, craning his neck.

  Jack shrugged. “You aren’t interested, remember?”

  Lucky grinned. “That was the woman?”

  Jack nodded. “Her name is Connie.”

  Lucky grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt with both hands. “Get her back here.”

  Now he’s interested.” Jack winked at Abby. “We’ll be right back.” He grabbed Lucky by the shoulders and squared him toward Abby. “Say good night.”

  Lucky grinned and repeated, “Good night, Abby. It’s been my pleasure.”

  Abby glanced toward the blonde then winked at Lucky. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  She stood back and watched as her handsome phantom performed some much needed Halloween magic. Judging from the look on Lucky and Connie’s faces, Abby thought those two might just weave a spell all their own tonight.

  As tired as she was tense from milling around, Abby arched her back and studied Jack’s face when he returned. Much to her approval, his frown lines had momentarily been replaced by a relaxed smile.

  “And they lived happily ever after,” she assured him.

  “I hope so.” Jack took her hand. “Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk this through.”

  As they stepped back out into the night and started toward the parking area, the sense of urgency hit Abby like a ton of bricks. “Did you feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have to go faster, Jack.”

  Without question he followed her lead.

  She stepped up her pace, desperately trying to see in the dark. Not enough, something told her. Not nearly enough.

  “Hurry.” Letting go of Jack’s hand, she jogged. Still not fast enough.

  Frustrated, she tossed her hat and mask and hiked her skirt up around her knees. “Run!”

  Mirroring Abby, Jack tore off his cape and rushed toward the Jeep.

  Sprinting as hard as she could down the winding path, she heard Jack’s long strides closing the distance between them.

  Somewhere mid stride a feeling struck Abby like a bolt of lightning. Before she could process it, she heard a loud sickening thud from behind that stopped her cold.

  Spinning around, it took her a second to figure out what had happened. The passenger door of the parked van she’d just passed had opened. Jack had apparently run, full speed, right into it. Now he lay sprawled on the ground.

  As Abby hurried back to Jack, someone jumped out of the van. She sensed, more than heard, the driver’s approach. At a glance, still cloaked in darkness, the advancing figure appeared burly, standing well over six feet. She knelt over Jack. Felt the pulse in his neck. A strong, steady beat told her he was alive but unconscious. Relieved, but worried, she said, without looking up, “Please help him.”

  When there was no reply, it was her blood’s turn to run cold. Time seemed to stand still. Her breath ceased. She prayed this was all a bad dream. The kind that left you screaming soundlessly. Running for your life in slow motion. Falling off a cliff.

  As desperate to know as she was not to know, when Abby felt Jack’s fingers twitch, she forced herself to look up and face the man dressed in the clown suit.

  “You,” she hissed.

  Zeke jerked Abby to her feet and handcuffed both wrists behind her back before she could blink. Rounding the van, he slammed her into the front seat so hard it jarred her teeth. He slipped a noose over her head and shoved it down around her throat, pinning her neck to the headrest. Her nightmare reared its ugly head once more and she could hear the angry voices crying, “Hang her by the neck!”

  The moment he slammed the door shut, Abby fought and strained against the rope until it dug into her skin and she choked. When that didn’t work, she tried frantically to release the door handle with her feet.

  “Damn!” Abby realized she’d never be able to work her way free in time, so she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! Somebody help me!”

  Zeke slid behind the wheel and clamped a large hand over her mouth. “Shut up, Bitch,” he ordered, “or I’ll splatter your boyfriend all over the street.”

  Abby ached to sink her teeth into the fleshy palm he had slapped hard across her face, but when she looked into his cold, emotionless eyes, she knew this man would carry out his threat.

  Jack was groggy, but when Abby’s cry sliced through his consciousness he struggled to his feet. The van made a U-turn in the driveway, and he saw her pale face through the passenger window. Jack bolted. He had to catch up while the driver was still maneuvering through parked cars. Had to get to Abby before the van could reach the street.

  On a dead run, Jack grabbed the ladder leading to luggage carrier and hopped on the back with a thud loud enough to alert the driver. He grabbed the metal rack on the roof and struggled to maintain his balance as the van accelerated. Hanging on with his right hand, he yanked the back door handle with his left. He shoved and pulled frantically, but it would not open. The driver swerved right and hit a curb — hard. Jack’s feet slipped off the ladder and left him hanging by one arm.

  The driver zigzagged recklessly into traffic, still trying to shake him off. Jack swiped at the luggage carrier with his free hand and missed. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried again. The van veered. Jack missed. His right arm strained to hold on as his feet flailed. Where the hell was that step?

  Unable to regain his footing, his fingers burned like fire. Both shoulders cramped. The added momentum of his moving body made maintaining his one-handed grip almost impossible. The cords in his neck and back stretched to the max. He fought to keep his legs out of the opposite lane. Headlights blinded Jack as oncoming drivers turned sharply to keep from hitting him. Still dangling like a human pendulum, he yanked furiously and finally felt the handle click and the door flew open.

  Abby’s heart nearly stopped when she heard someone land hard in the back of the van. She strained to turn her head, but couldn’t. Even without looking, she knew it had to be Jack. When she saw the driver start to reach beneath the seat, she struggled violently to shift her weight and kick one leg sideways. She ground her high heel down hard and pinned his hand to the floor.

  “Dammit!” Zeke howled as the vehicle swerved out of control. Horns blared. Jack grabbed the back of Abby’s seat and braced himself just before the van jumped a curb and slammed full speed into a tree.

  Upon impact, Abby was thrown forward and the rope around her neck nearly strangled her. Gasping for air, she fought to remain conscious. Stunned but unhurt, Jack dove into the front seat as Zeke forced open the door and fell out. Quick to follow, Jack landed squarely on him. In one huge shove, Zeke heaved Jack aside and both men scrambled to their feet.

  Squared off beneath the streetlight, they faced one another for the first time. Jack took a split second to size up the guy. He was big. Looked strong. And his Neanderthal reach had to be ridiculous.

  Jack was used to fighting in a courtroom battle but never literally for his life. And Abby’s. When the man held up his hand in a traditional boxer’s stance, Jack knew he’d never been this far out of his element. Like the hypnotic motion of a Cobra ready to strike, the man rocked slightly from
foot to foot. Jack raised his fists, mimicking his opponent.

  The first blow was lightning fast and hard as hell. Jack felt the big man’s right fist connect with his chin, snapping his teeth together. He bit his tongue and tasted blood. A split second later Jack caught a left hook that flipped his head to the right. Jack countered with a punch that glanced off the guy’s cheek. Jack spit blood on the sidewalk and, without thinking, took a step forward. The circle that separated them grew smaller.

  “Come on, Asshole,” Zeke taunted, dropping his arms, showing no fear. “The sooner I finish you off; the sooner I get back to your girlfriend.” The streetlight illuminated the man’s sadistic grin.

  Before Jack could blink the man closed the gap between them, leaping forward, left foot first, and throwing a straight left jab. The punch landed squarely on Jack’s chin, snapping his head like whiplash. He staggered backwards several steps, fighting to regain his footing and comeback with something … anything. He swung hard, but his assailant had already retreated out of Jack’s reach. Out-matched in skill, speed and brute strength, Jack knew he was in deep trouble.

  Still grinning, the man lunged forward again. Going into pure survival mode, Jack aimed a kick at the one spot guaranteed to drop any man. To Jack’s surprise, the man actually stepped into the kick and caught his ankle. Holding Jack’s foot the man yanked him forward. He struggled to hop on one foot rather than go down, but the man, held his ankle and kicked Jack’s other leg out from under him. Jack’s ass hit the sidewalk hard. His head bounced on the concrete as he landed hard on his back. The air whooshed out of his lungs.

  The man slammed Jack’s free leg down and rushed on top of him. Straddling him just above the waist, the man anchored Jack to the ground. In one swift movement he had taken away Jack’s ability to scramble to his feet. In this position his legs were useless. Panic ripped through him.

  The man’s weight bore down on Jack’s diaphragm, causing him to pant to breathe. Flailing, but unable to land a punch, he could see his frosty, staccato breaths in the cold night air. Jack arched his back to try to shake off the bastard, but this obviously wasn’t his first rodeo. The man rode out Jack’s attempts then threw down an elbow landing solidly on Jacks forehead, grinding the back of Jack’s head into the pavement.

  Pain ricocheted through Jack’s head. His vision blurred. Keeping his left hand on the cement for balance, the man threw another elbow. Caught hard above his left eyebrow, Jack felt the skin split. A hot stream of blood ran down his cheek and trickled into his ear. Unable to push him off, Jack grappled for the man’s face and tried to claw his eyes. Pulling up with all his strength, he grabbed the back of the man’s neck and tried to swing him to one side — even a fraction.

  The assailant batted away his attempts and threw down another elbow to the same spot, opening the cut deeper and banging Jack’s head on the pavement again. Pain exploded in his skull. His lungs burned. The blood that had run in Jack’s left eye now blinded the man’s assault from that side. With every ounce of strength he could muster, Jack bucked his hips again and again. Desperate, he struggled to turn beneath the man’s dead weight to roll him over and off of him, but with both the assailant’s knees grounded firmly on either side of him, it didn’t work.

  Groping for any kind of leverage, Jack’s discovered what felt like might be the only chance to save his life and Abby’s. Discarded next to the curb lay a beer bottle. As he flailed for it, the man threw down another elbow, completely closing Jack’s left eye. Excruciating pain stopped his attempt short. Just … out … of … reach. Clawing he stretched his fingers, the nails raking the concrete. The tips touched the lip of the glass neck. Slipped off. He strained with everything in him until one finger found the opening.

  In one last attempt Jack forced his hips up momentarily upsetting the man’s balance just a fraction. Using the tiniest bit of leverage he had, Jack threw every ounce of strength left in his body in the direction of the bottle. Infuriated by the momentary shift, the man pummeled Jack with punches. Right, left, right, left. With one eye swollen shut and blood in the other, Jack couldn’t see. Both ears rang like a church bell on a cold winter’s night. Somehow through the pain and the exhaustion of his struggle, Jack flicked his finger just enough to flick it closer to his thumb, enabling him to grab the bottle’s neck. Another shot to his head landed so hard it caused a reflex that sent his hand, bottle and all, slamming into the temple of the man so fast Jack didn’t even realize he had done it. He did, however, feel the man’s weight shift off him.

  Reacting with primal instincts, Jack sat up and rolled over before he could be pinned down again. When he realized his Hail Mary punch hadn’t even broken the bottle, Jack’s rage exploded. He picked it up and busted it on the man’s head then grabbed the front of the unconscious man’s shirt. He slammed his fist into the man’s face, then hauled him up and did it again. And again. Jack never even heard the sirens when the police cars pull up beside them, never saw the red and blue flashing lights.

  “It’s over,” Lucky yelled as he pulled Jack off the other man.

  Panting, Jack jerked his arm away from Lucky and bent over, bracing both hands on his knees. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone before. But he had wanted to hurt this man. Apparently it’s not easy to turn off the survival switch once it has been flipped. He staggered to his feet and decisively rolled his shoulders. He could live with that.

  Abby watched Jack turn his back on Lucky and make his way toward the van on unsteady feet. No one should ever be pushed that far beyond his limits. She knew he had crossed the line for her and only hoped the price hadn’t been too high.

  Jack opened the door. He uncurled his fists and gently untied the noose. Lucky was right behind him with a key for the handcuffs. Once she was free, Jack took hold of her trembling hands and helped her from the van. He started to touch the ugly rope burn around her neck, but his hands hesitated. “Your throat,” he whispered.

  Abby shook her head. “Your eye,” she whispered, pressing his badly scraped knuckles to her lips. She had cast the circle and asked for protection, so what had gone wrong? And that’s when it dawned on her. When asking for protection, she had specified at the Halloween Ball. Had not paying close attention to her words nearly cost both their lives? God, there was so much she didn’t know.

  Abby’s warm tears stung as they splashed onto the tender flesh of Jack’s hand, but he did move.

  “You’re still bleeding,” Abby murmured, gently lifting her shirtsleeve to dab some of the blood.

  “Jack,” Lucky called from the van. “Looks like you still have a horseshoe up your ass.” He pulled a gun from beneath the front seat and brought it over for them to see.

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” Jack said. “Abby just told me when he reached for it she nailed his hand to the floor with her high heel.”

  Lucky raised one eyebrow and looked at Abby.

  Concern filling her eyes, she managed a wink.

  “By the way, Venucci,” Jack said, “thanks for the back up.”

  “Forget it. One of the party goers saw the whole thing go down and called it in on his cell phone,” Lucky shrugged. “Besides, that’s just what I do.”

  “Kinda like the cavalry?” Abby offered a shaky smile.

  “Yeah,” Lucky nodded. He put one arm around Abby’s shoulder and the other over Jack’s. “Come on. I’ll drive you to E.R.”

  Jack shook his head, immediately paying the price. “We don’t have time.”

  “Like hell you don’t.”

  Abby put her hand on Lucky’s sleeve.

  “I’m not going.” Jack clenched his jaw to manage the pain. “Later, not now.”

  Feeling Lucky’s forearm tense, she caught his gaze and asked quietly, “Is there any other way — for now?”

  “This is nuts.” Lucky shook his head, then scrubbed a hand across his mouth. �
�Okay, okay. I know a guy.”

  “A guy,” she repeated. The question in Abby’s voice was obvious.

  “For Christ’s sake, he’s an E.R. doc not a veterinarian. Although taking this dumb ass to a vet would serve him right.”

  “Please,” she said.

  “For you,” Lucky told her, checking his watch. “Let’s go. Maybe we can catch him at home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  After the ordeal they’d just been through and their quick stop at Lucky’s racquetball buddy’s for stitches and pain killer, nothing had ever looked quite as good to Abby as Jack’s house. Grateful to be safe, she headed straight for the kitchen.

  “How about some coffee?” she offered.

  “Sounds great.”

  “You sit. I’ll make,” she ordered. And for once Jack didn’t argue. A few minutes later with steaming mugs in hand, Abby stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. She smiled. It looked like Jack had not only started a fire, but he had also helped himself to the remainder of her candles. Shadows danced on every wall. Music, soft and mystical, filled the air. The spicy scent of warm wax smelled of autumn. Her heart broke just a little at the sight of his swollen black eye, stitched forehead, bruised jaw and bloodstained shirt. Tonight, he had risked his life for her. Right now, they had to talk.

  Abby sat down beside Jack and placed the coffee in front of them. She handed him a mug and watched closely as he took a drink. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I should ask you the same question.” He ran a finger down her cheek. When her eyes closed at his touch, he swallowed hard. My God, he’d come so close to losing her again.

  “I’m okay,” she assured him. You, not so much.” Abby looked away from his battered face. “I guess we’ll just have to wait to find out how that man figures into all this.” She shuddered and Jack pulled her closer.

  Before asking, Abby searched Jack’s expression. As desperate as she was to hear him say the bald man was the end of the line, she needed an honest answer. “Do you think he’s the only one we have to worry about?”